


The Taming of the Shrew

by borealis (butwholivesinapineappleunderthesea), butwholivesinapineappleunderthesea



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Alex may be a teenaged spy but he is still a teenager, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Tags May Change, Tom Harris is a mess, Yassen Gregorovich has an odd personality, Yassen Gregorovich is so done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29731353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butwholivesinapineappleunderthesea/pseuds/borealis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/butwholivesinapineappleunderthesea/pseuds/butwholivesinapineappleunderthesea
Summary: "Rider," he said to the empty road. "Why is it always a Rider?"Nobody answered him but the wind, wailing softly in his ears, blowing tears of snow and grime around him.
Relationships: Alex Rider & Tom Harris, Yassen Gregorovich & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really want to improve my writing so any constructive criticism very welcome :)

"Gregorovich." The silky voice pierced the deafening noise of the late night pub, and Yassen stiffened. The name slid over his shoulders and around his neck, settling by his throat like a silver knife of threat.

He tilted his head in greeting. "Alianova."

The stool beside him creaked softly, and the lean dancer's body of the lady came into sight. She tapped her nails on the cool barstool in a sort of lilting rhythm; a crooning call. "Hello." 

He turned to meet her cold gaze, his heart traitorously skipping a beat. 

Her eyes swept over him, and Yassen sympathized strongly with a tiger's prey for a moment. "You look old."

"And you're as sharp as always, Alianova," he said, lifting his pint in salute.

Alianova glared at him. "Beer?" she asked, a hint of amusement coloring her voice "And here I thought you were a man of finer taste than to stoop to a pint."

Yassen grimaced, and ran a finger over the handle. "So did I."

"What changed?"

Yassen quirked a pointed eyebrow at the lady. "I'm getting old now."

Alianova was silent for a minute, her face expressionless, then burst in a bright smile. It lit up her features, and she looked prettier than ever. "I missed you, Yassen."

Yassen quirked a lip at the rare show of eagerness from Romanova. "Yelena," he laughed softly. "How have you been?"

"Well," she replied, flagging down a bartender for a glass of cold orange juice.

Yassen marveled at the fact that she still insisted on drinking the awful drink at any occasion, while a variety of other, better, drinks were available. "Still breaking the Russian stereotypes, are you?" he asked.

Yelena laughed, and the sound was warm and crinkly in the air. "It's sweeter than vodka." She smirked at Yassen, crimson lips upturning into something akin to amusement. Her hair washed down her shoulders, and Yassen fought the sudden urge to tuck it behind an ear.

"It's grim."

Yelena sipped her juice, with the grace of a swan who'd been dolled up nicely for a night out. She crossed one leg above the other, and the red sequins on her dress sparkled in the pub lighting. "How have _you_ been, Cossack?"

"Well enough, considering," he mused. 

"Considering?"

Yassen shot his eyebrows at Yelena in a 'surprise' kind of motion, and she cocked her head, waiting. "The Brits pulled a Bond Jr.."

Yelena's brow furrowed in thought. It wasn't the first time someone had had that one incredibly original idea, but she'd never expected the Brits to do it. Judging from the way Yassen was sulking over a pint of beer in an English pub, she deduced he'd met the child. It was how he always acted when something unexpected crashed into his life. It was horrible. He was unbearable. "How old?"

Yassen sighed. "Fourteen."

God, he was young. " _Fourteen_?"

"Fifteen today actually," Yassen chuckled wryly. "I've been ordered to kill the boy."

Yelena studied him carefully. "You will not?" It was less a question than a fact.

Yassen downed the rest of his pint, and rubbed a hand over his face. "I can't. He's just a child." 

"I was just a child as well."

"Yes but-"

Yelena could sense something else he was holding back. "But?" she prompted.

"It's Hunter's boy."

"Oh," Yelena breathed in realization. She ran her finger around the rim of her glass, then licked it. Seeing Yassen's unimpressed expression she defended herself with a slight rise of her eyebrows. "Sugar," she explained, and Yassen nodded, justifying the admittedly acceptable action.

"Besides," Yassen continued, turning back to nursing his drink. "I don't hurt children, Yelena, you know that." He said it confidently, but something in his voice was uncertain.

"Not directly, no."

Yassen turned his gaze away and stared into the bottom of his empty glass, hoping the thing would come alive and give him much needed life advice. "It's my job."

A hush fell over the two as a large burly man stumbled over to collect his drinks. The smell of alcohol washed over them and Yassen sniffed in disdain. The pub's noise had gotten louder as the night creeped into the later hours of the night. 

"It's my job," he repeated firmly, catching Yelena's eye. "I transport the goods, and I leave."

Yelena put a hand on his arm. "You'll figure it out somehow, Cossack." uncrossing her legs and standing up. It was like watching a panther move, all silent and graceful. "It was nice to see you alive this time, _durak_." She patted his cheek playfully, and ducked outside into the cold air, the door jingling as it swung shut after her.

Yassen watched her leave, her dress ruffling in the winter air outside. Her red curls contrasted sharply with her surroundings, making for an altogether striking figure in the snow.

He threw down a couple of pounds on the bar table. Yes he would, would he not? He would figure it out somehow. He used to be very creative as a child, surely that does not disappear as one grows older. 

The wind bit at his face as he met it by the door, making his eyes tear up. He blinked it away, and leant back on the stone bricks of the building, staring at the lamppost in front of him, wishing that something would show him what course of action to take.

He shifted his gaze to the warmly lit country town. He needed to stop thinking inanimate objects could solve his messes, he didn't have time to end up in a psychiatrics office. Scorpia's shrinks were notoriously more in need of their own help than their patients were. He's heard the rumors, and he certainly wasn't stupid enough to let on that he was starting to feel insane.

"Rider," he said to the empty road, tilting his head backwards to implore at the sky, feeling oddly like a Shakespeare character. _Why must it always be thou_. "Why is it always a Rider?"

Nobody answered him but the wind, wailing softly in his ear, blowing tears of snow and grime around him, and he felt a sense of hopelessness wash over him as he stood in the cold night. What was _wrong_ with him? He was a trained assassin, one of the deadliest to date. Nobody had gotten ahold of him yet, and still, here he was, having a life crisis over a fifteen year old like some sort of child. He wasn't a child anymore, he hadn't been one for a long long time, unlike a certain blond boy who kept haunting him since the day they met face to face on that rooftop.

"Fuck you, Hunter," he murmured, and pushed himself off the pub when it became clear that he was becoming more and more at risk of losing his fingers to the brutal jaws of winter.

He clenched and unclenched his hands, rubbing them together for warmth. Aside from the seemingly impeding asylum room booked for him, Yassen decided to completely ignore his out of character breakdown in favor of acting like the assassin he was and disappearing into the darkness of the night.

He pulled his hood over his head, and took a right turn around the pub into the alleyway. If someone had followed him not one minute later, they would find the street completely empty.

"Hello."

Alex would swear up and down with all the colors of the wind to the day he died that he didn't scream like a little girl. His cheeks burned bright red, part in shock and part in embarrassment. There was a dead person on their doorstep.

"What the hell?" he rasped. "I'll call '6."

Yassen chuckled and a shiver ran up Alex's spine. "No you won't."

Alex blinked like a deer caught in headlight, a little confused and slow, then dashed past Yassen, hoping to catch him by surprise. 

Yassen caught his collar, and dragged him backwards. Children are _dumb_ . "Don't be stupid, Alex," he said, wrestling the boy into a firm grip.

"I will scream."

"Then scream."

Alex kicked him in the knees and Yassen winced inwardly. Ouch. The boy had heart. He was glad. It meant that he'd not been fucked over completely by MI6. "Stop."

His response was a loud yell and Yassen leant his head backwards, as far away from the noise as he could currently get. A dog barked in the distance, and Yassen rolled his eyes and slammed a cloth over Alex's mouth, ignoring the muffled protests, dragging Alex down the porch and around his house, making certain to keep low by the windows. 

He lugged the boy into the backseat of his car and stood there, reevaluating his life for a moment.

"Happy birtday, Sasha," he finally muttered, slamming shut the car door, before sliding into the diver's seat and revving up the engine. God help him. He was not prepared to look after a child. In fact-- he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel-- he was very unsuitable to look after a child. Especially one that was, technically, on the other side and would most likely continue his futile efforts to see him off the world.

The sky was cloudy, and yet, Yassen could see the slivers of moonlight shining through onto the forest road, and unbidden to him he smiled. _My little horse must think it queer, to stop without a farmhouse near, between the woods and frozen lake, the darkest evening of the year._ Yassen surprised himself with a desperate laugh. He was growing crazy in his old years. All he had going for him now was Yelena to put a rabid wolf out of its misery. The cub would always be alright.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "MI6 are coming you know," Alex paused to spit at him.   
> "No they aren't."  
> "How do you know?"  
> Yassen paused in slamming the car door shut and peered in at Alex, who was still blinking off the aftereffects of being drugged. "Did they come last time?"  
> "Yes."  
> "No they did not."  
> And there was their answer. They did not come last time, and very probably would not come looking for him any time soon yet.

Yassen banged on Yelena's door for the fourth time in a row. "Yelena." He glanced worriedly at Alex who had started to stir. "Yelena!"

The sun had started to rise on the horizon, and Yassen really wanted to get inside before the snow started to melt. He was freezing.

"Yelena!" 

Not a peep was heard from the inside of the house, and Yassen groaned, rocking back on his heels. God, he would love to just shoot something right now. His head was starting to throb angrily. He thunked the door with his boot in a last half-hearted try.

The house seemed to smile down at him with it's cheerful colors, mocking him in a way only an inanimate building could.

"Let me go!"

Great. The boy was awake. Yassen ignored him in favour of stepping over the atrociously ugly garden gnome Yelena insisted on having on the steps. "Little companion, he is," she liked to say. The snow slushed depressingly under his boots as he went over to look in a window. 

Nothing was on. 

A noise from behind him caught his attention, and he turned around. Alex had sat up in the backseat and was trying to bite the zip-ties he had zip-tied around his wrists free.

"MI6 are coming you know," Alex paused to spit at him. 

"No they aren't."

"How do you know?"

Yassen paused in slamming the car door shut and peered in at Alex, who was still blinking off the aftereffects of being drugged. "Did they come last time?"

"Yes."

"No they did not."

And there was their answer. They did not come last time, and very probably would not come looking for him any time soon yet.

Alex ignored him, and swung his wrists downwards in a sweeping motion onto his knees.

Yassen took the opportunity of Alex's distraction to swing the door shut, this time making sure to lock it. He ha other things to worry about at the moment. 

He stared at the the house that was more on the smaller side of things. It had been refurbished newly, by the looks of it. The door was freshly painted in a dark red hue-- very fitting of her-- and the windowsills were fresh with flowers. All in all a very non Yelena house, Yassen thought, but he knew better than to question the designing skills of the lady that once beat him up with nothing other than a rolling pin. 

It was a metal rolling pin, he comforted himself as he pushed one of the windows open, taking care not to mess up the daises too much. He felt as if there was some sort of Shakespearean irony to be made there; the assassin doing his utmost not to bend a couple of little leaves. 

He shook himself out of his mind and dropped into the kitchen. "Yelena?"

Nothing.

Yassen laid his knife down on the kitchen table. The metal made a satisfying ring as it hit the cool marble top.

A He desperately hoped that the girl would show up at this moment, the thought of dealing with a non-drugged-up Alex on his own was exhausting. 

He stepped through the living room, and pried the front door open with a pin he picked up from the dining table. 

"Finally," he muttered, heading over to the car , feeling strangely as if he was walking in circles on a merry go round. "Get out."

Alex eyed him carefully and held his hands low in front of him as he edge out of the backseat. The zip-ties had obviously been broken, and Yassen felt a brief flash of approval. All the kid needed to learn now was to hide the fact that- "I'm not an idiot, Alex." 

Alex glowered as Yassen held his wrist in a deathly grip. He twisted and threw a fist at Yassen's face.

Yassen blocked it like a flash, and before Alex could process what had happened, he was thrown face down on the snowy grass. Again, _children_. "Do not." Yassen's voice was cold and laced with a stern warning. It was like training puppies, he thought. Parenting was _easy_.

Alex grunted in pain. 

Yassen heard him mumble something close to "fuck you," but it was muffled by the snow in his face. 

"Let me up!" 

Yassen pulled him up by the collar and Alex gasped for air. Somewhere in Yassen's sleep deprived, stressed mind, he had forgotten that the boy needed oxygen just like any other human being to stay alive. Such a shame. The need for breathing was an unnecessary complication. He could have made many a mission simpler for himself if it wasn't for that one fact. "Do not act out, Alex," he said, praying that Yelena would show up any time soon. Where were the girls when you needed them?

"What if I do?"

A cold barrel was swiftly pressed to the side of Alex's head. "You will not."

Alex fell silent.

If the boy was not going to behave, Yassen would easily resort to simple methods of keeping him quiet. Such small things were not a significant dent in his conscience, and they made life much easier for him in the long run.

The sound of a car in the distance made the two look up, and Yassen pulled Alex backwards behind his sedan in the road. 

Alex coughed, and hissed. "What was that for."

Yassen dismissed the question and brushed snow and dirt off his vest. "Shut up and walk." He poked the boy's side with his gun, when it became clear that Alex was going to dig his heels in as much as he could. "We do not have all day, Alexander," he said. It sounded weak to his ears, but Alex had-- cleverly enough-- decided not to clash against the assassin any further than he already had, and Yassen was relieved. As much as he hid it behind the calm and collected mask he wore, Yassen was very, very close to snapping. 

He shut the door behind them after he'd deposited Alex onto one of the dining chairs and tied him fast. Now all they had left to do was wait. That and hope Yelena wouldn't murder him for messing up her lock.


End file.
